


Are You Breathing?

by casey26334



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Romance, Victory Tour, dance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:55:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25119496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casey26334/pseuds/casey26334
Summary: Haymitch asks Effie to dance during the Victory Tour.
Relationships: Haymitch Abernathy/Effie Trinket
Comments: 4
Kudos: 55





	Are You Breathing?

The Victory Tour always ended at the Capitol. It was an invitation-only event intended for the Capitol’s elite; the biggest night of the year. The decorations, guests, and speeches were discussed in the tabloids for weeks afterward. Yet this year was different, even more exciting. This year District 12’s Victors, two of them to be exact, were the guests of honor. 

Effie had worked nonstop in the months leading up to the event trying to prepare for the evening- flowers, lighting, hors d’oeuvres, guest lists, outfits, speeches, the list went on and on. 

It had been a whirlwind night of celebration and excitement, but now the energy was calming. The band was playing gently, having moved from high energy dance music to something soft and slow. People were talking softly; the lighting had been turned down and changed to a gentle purple. 

Feeling the end of the evening approaching, Effie was just beginning to consider herding Peeta and Katniss toward the train to begin the journey back to District 12 when a gruff voice approached from behind.

“Nice party. When do we get to leave?”

She bristled at the comment and the man himself, “Haymitch, you’ve surprised me. I expected to have to find and dig you out of a bush you had drunkenly fallen into… again.”

“Not tonight, sweetheart. I’m sobering up quite nicely, unfortunately.”

She gave him a doubtful look but then realized that he wasn’t drunk at all. Effie had seen him heavily intoxicated enough to know. His clothes weren’t askew, eyes weren’t as heavy and glassy as usual, he was steady on his feet, and now that she thought of it, she hadn’t been embarrassed by any of his actions the entire evening. Highly unusual, but impressive.

She began to gather her trusty clipboard and schedule from where she stashed them before the party began while Haymitch stood unusually quiet beside her.

“It’s about time we found the children and got you all back on the train, don’t you think? We have a long day of travel tomorrow.”

“Oh,” Haymitch said softly. Effie started at his simple reply, fully expecting to get an earful of why he should have never had to be forced from the train and away from his private bar for this event in the first place.

“Oh?”

Haymitch hesitated, “I, um… this is a nice song, isn’t it?”

Effie, confused, tilted her head to listen. Yes, it was nice. A soft, gentle, jazz tune that reminded her of rebel songs her grandfather had secretly let her listen to as a child. 

“This is what they listened to before the War, Eff. Beautiful, no?”

“Yes, I suppose it is pretty,” she said, slightly suspicious. She never knew Haymitch Abernathy as one to comment on something one may even remotely consider sophisticated. 

He swallowed, “I… didn’t know if you wanted to dance?”

She almost dropped her clipboard. 

“What?”

“Dance. Do you want to dance?”

Maybe Haymitch was more intoxicated than she thought.

Unthinkingly she responded, “You can dance?”

“Wow, talk about bad manners, Effie Trinket.” 

She huffed as he used her own words against her, “Well I’ve never known you to comment admiringly on music and ask a lady to dance!”

“Well you don’t have to,” he said, the courage it took him to ask leaving quickly as he glanced around and looked for a quick escape.

She felt bad for the man, standing there looking so out of place. He was trying to be civil, she could tell, and when it came to Haymitch “trying” was monumental. It was one dance; they had time for one dance and then off to the train they would need to go to remain on schedule.

“Yes, I will dance with you. Thank you for asking,” she said as graciously as possible after his comment about her manners.

Haymitch looked significantly less sure about the request now, but she slipped her arm through his and led him to the dwindling dance floor. There were still a few couples here and there, swaying to the gentle music, but Effie led him to a quiet corner of the floor.

Still looking nervous, Haymitch stood awkwardly until Effie placed one hand on his shoulder and took his hand in her other, raising it so that their intertwined hands were held between their bodies. He put his hand timidly on her back, her skin bare thanks to her backless dress.

There had always been a spark between Effie and Haymitch, always a flirtatious edge to their banter. A special type of tension beneath their heated arguments. Due to their roles, they had always been two halves of a whole during the Games. Doing interviews together, schmoozing with the Capitol wealthy for the betterment of their tributes, continuously appearing as a team. No matter what, always side by side.

But this… this was entirely different. This was wholly autonomous, separate from any requirement or expectation of a Mentor and Escort. 

Effie could feel the tension, fully aware that they had never been this close before. She needed to distract, to lighten the mood, to make this as casual as possible before it… wasn’t.

“Are you breathing?” she asked jokingly.

Haymitch suddenly let out a heavy breath, surprised that he had been holding it, “Yes?”

She laughed sweetly, and the sound made his lungs constrict again. 

He had watched her from afar for much of the evening. Flittering about from person to person, table to table, socializing, greeting, everything she naturally excelled and reveled in. He had watched her genuinely smile, for once without the brazen Capitol performance, admired the way the lights made her gold hair shine, and struggled to keep his eyes away from the expanse of smooth skin her backless dress revealed. 

Haymitch could no longer hear the music, couldn’t do anything but think about how much he was going to regret this dance because he had wanted it so badly. Usually what he wanted ended up in ruin… no thanks to him. But as he had watched Effie tonight he saw how she was different. Lighter, genuinely happy, basking in an air of relief. This was the first year they had brought home Victors, not children in coffins. Even if only for this evening, the weight of those previous years was gone. The façade of casual disappointment in another Games lost; steadfastly ignoring the blood, death, gore, and violence they had witnessed in the name of entertainment. For once they didn’t have to pretend to ignore the bodies of District 12 children on the train.

“Would you relax?”

Effie’s voice broke through his disturbing thoughts which were heading toward a familiar place of death, violence, and blood that so often plagued his mind.

“You’re stiff as a board,” she admonished as her hand moved from his shoulder and ran down the side of his neck in a comforting gesture. Haymitch’s breath caught in his throat. This woman was going to make him pass out before the song was over.

“Sorry. I was thinking.”

“Don’t think, just enjoy the night. We deserve it,” she said as the song slowly faded away. Neither made a motion to step away as the next song, another gentle soothing melody, began, and they continued their dance.

Quietly, so only he could hear, she looked up at him with suppressed excitement, “We did it.”

He smiled and looked into her eyes with a real, genuine smile and whispered, “Yeah, I know.”

Joy emanated from her face and made her look fifty times as beautiful as she usually did. He didn’t think he could stand it and looked away.

She took a small step closer to him. He gave in and turned his head just slightly so that his face pressed gently into her hair. He breathed her in, knowing that it would be many months before he would see her again. He pulled her closer at the thought, tightening his hold on her bare back and holding their entwined hands against his chest. Their bodies swaying gently to the slow beat.

The tighter he held her on the dance floor the more she felt the heavy anticipation of their imminent separation. Something about the joy and relief found in the aftermath of this Hunger Games made stepping even further into his chest easier. For years she had felt very conflicting feelings about District 12’s Mentor, a fierce mix of hatred and companionship, but in the whirlwind of the evening’s celebration it was easier. Easier to rejoice and throw care to the wind without the burden of failure and death weighing upon them. They deserved it. They were happy, and they deserved it.

The soft music continued to flow, and as they swayed together Effie closed her eyes and pressed the tip of her nose against his neck, pausing a few moments before running it upward along his jaw. Haymitch didn’t fight it and leaned his head down to her, touching the bridge of his nose lightly against hers. They stayed like this for what felt like a lifetime; eyes closed, noses and foreheads gently pressing against one another, enjoying their last moments together before duty called yet again. He could feel her breath quicken against his lips when his calloused hands tightened their hold on her, not wanting to let go. Wanting to keep her with him. 

Together, their breath grew quicker, more heated, bodies no longer swaying to the music they could no longer hear anyway. Oblivious to everyone in the room but each other. 

She tightened her hold on his lapel, pulling him even closer before running her hand up and placing it upon his neck. He leaned forward just slightly, just enough for his lips to ghost across hers in a way that was so gentle and quick it could have been an accident. Her breath hitched. His fingers tightened. Their hearts pounded. 

“Haymitch…” she whispered in a strained voice he had only ever imagined. 

A small and desperate whine escaped his lips. 

“Effie…”

Their lips met, no longer being confused for an accident. He quickly moved his hand to the back of her neck, the other wrapped around her waist, holding her to tightly to him. It was a slow, passionate, breathy kiss that overflowed with reserved longing that they knew better than to release here, at this party. 

The party. 

Effie’s eye’s shot open and she pushed away. 

Haymitch leaned forward, following her lips, opening his eyes when he met nothing but air. 

“What?” he asked.

She looked like a deer caught in the headlights- frozen, wide eyed, unsure of how to react. She was afraid to look around, to see just how much of a spectacle they had created. What a tabloid headlining story this would be! Effie Trinket, Refined Capitol Escort, Caught Smooching With District 12’s Resident Drunk!

She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and when she opened them said, “Haymitch. Forgive me. I- that was very unladylike of me. I apologize.”

He was standing motionless, confused as to her sudden change of heart. He was still holding her by the hip, reluctant to let go, unsure if he would ever be able to hold her again.

She put her hand on his forearm, sliding down to where his hand met her hip, and gently removed his hand. 

Delicately, and with a hint of regret, she said, “We need to get to the train…”

He let go of her, feeling the disappointment in the heaviness of his sigh. He simply nodded his head. Expectations, civility, and duty all called.

They walked away from their spot on the dance floor in a slight daze, yet still side by side like they always had been. Mentor and Escort, District and Capitol, but maybe now just a little bit more…


End file.
